If You Leave Me Now...

I'm just going to come out and say it. No bullshit.

One of the best writers on the internet is a goddamn quitter. His blog is gone, his life is busy, fucking whatever. We are sooooooo in a fight right now.

Do you hear that, Pistols at Dawn? Can you feel my pain from states away? Can you feel the pain of us all, the loyal readers of Save Your Generation? No announcement to the troops, no, "see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya," you're just going to disappear? I had to learn about it from Red and Del-V? Horsecock.

I really don't know how he can expect any of us to continue without him.

He might not have been a great man. Or even a good man. He might not have been humble, sensitive, or thoughtful. But goddammit he was clever, and hilarious to the point of tears, and one of the most original minds I've read. Other than my own. Of course. Even though sometimes reading his blog was downright eerie, considering his habit of sounding a lot like me. So, in reality, my devotion to Pistols was actually a devotion to myself.

Granted, most of his thoughts were a jumbley slathering of tedious references yoked together to form a coherent but pointless and slanted stance on something that no one in their right mind would give a shit about...but that was part of his charm and allure. Hook 'em with pretty, rhythmic prose and self-congratulatory assholery.

I would link his posts, but alas, cannot. He's gone and blocked the whole damn thing. However, I shall now introduce you to my secret weapon: something I like to call Google Fucking Reader: An Exercise in Cutting and Pasting. And now, here are some of my favorite Pistols moments.

Drunk Pistols (nearly as fun as drunk me, but not as obsessed with Bruce Willis, being a straight male):

Awesomer than you give it credit for: drinking all night in the middle of the week. Seriously, don't you have to be up in like an hour? Ans: effing paaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrty!

Good point. Well met, me.

Man, you know what's awesome? Everyone liking you enough to buy you drinks all night. That's like all the alcoholism minus all the cost: sweet-ass sweet. Also: boobs are even more majestic than previously believed. Still, girl: that Christian guy? Really? Also, sentences with colons in them: apparently my favorite thing.

And sober Pistols, complete with a perfect example of his typical reference-laden sentence structure:

One of the strangest aspects of describing something artistic to someone else is that everything becomes the third angle of a pop culture triangle - discernible in relation to two other fixed metaphorical points.

For example, if your friend says, "Hey, you went to see Black Kids last night - what do they sound like?" And since you saying, "Like a band that plays rock songs" wouldn't help anyone, you'd say something like, "Like a Cure album playing over a club's PA while New Order sound checks their synthesizers and backing vocals."

And that wouldn't be quite right, but it'd be close enough, mostly because the person who asked was only being polite and didn't really care anyway.

So you know. Enjoy that, and tonight I will be getting very, very drunk, singing the sweet tunes of Peter Cetera in memory of the one that blogged away.

But really, I'll be enjoying the spring. Gyna: bikes tonight? Bikes tonight. Please and hope so.

On another note: If any of you decide to up and quit for good, please let me know, so I can grieve properly alone in my room and listen to "If You Leave Me Now" on a loop, instead of waiting for your triumphant return in vain.

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Later Edit: I would like to let everyone know that Pistols' excuse is the following:

...Alas, there's just a lot going on these days and I can barely make time for that, let alone making a bunch of dick jokes on the interweb...

Which I'm sure is part of the standard email he sent to all of his fans, because he's really quite lazy.

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